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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24097777">evils being cute</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/quezq/pseuds/quezq'>quezq</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Multi, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Queerplatonic Relationships, Slow Burn, Tickling, bad sans gang, chapters that basically happen entirely inside character's head?, implied nightlust, possibly non-platonic cuddling, romance is definitely blooming!, romance may be blooming, there's a lot going on, undefined relationships...</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:27:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24097777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/quezq/pseuds/quezq</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>drabbles on nightmare's gang/utmv and their weird relationships. endless fluff and probably lots of tickles because i'm like that</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bad Guys Poly, Sans/Sans (Undertale), bad gays poly?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>185</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. in which killer takes a step</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>nightmare being soft for his so-called minions, exhibit one</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"You asked for it, Kills."</em>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>Well, he did - although, in his defense, he didn't know what exactly he was asking for. This isn't what he expected. What <em>did</em> he expect, offering to substitute for Cherie in a session? The weirdo probably does weird things, yeah. But, for a moment, Killer was ready to surrender both his body and mind however the other wished to have him.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He would think about where all the devotion came from, if he could think at all.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Nightmare's hands continue to squeeze his floating ribs, going back and forth with little vibrating pinches, and it's beyond horrible. His nerves beg him to do whatever it takes, just <em>stars</em> <em>make it stop. </em>Embarrassingsqueals slip out every few seconds. This is hell, more commonly known as his master's grasp - and he loves it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Killer's face is well acquainted with the couch, but they had never had a relationship as close as the way it's burying itself against the cushions would suggest. His own hands don't know how to fight off the attacks, thus flailing around with no direction, occasionally closing around Nighty's wrists and pushing <em>away go awaaay not there pleeease </em>to no avail. He's not strong enough and panicked reactions only fuel the difference, but it's not like one can choose not to have them.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The sounds coming out of Killer, though against his will, are clearly overjoyed. It may be an automatic body response, but mixed in are the giggles of... someone who's having fun, Nightmare can tell.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's really, <em>really</em> cute.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He stops a little to marvel at how cute it is, which makes Killer duck his head and look away, inadvertently becoming even cuter under the glow of the bright red blush. Nightmare pushes at his chin to make him look back up, a lot gentler than he normally would with Cherie. If it must even out in the end, the rest of the world can suffer a little more, for all he cares; his subordinate's adorable flustered smile is worth the trouble.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>A wiggle of phalanges that were already nestled in his neck and shoulder causes his void eyesockets to shut and soft, airy laughter to spill again. It doesn't remain soft for long, as the cold fingers make their way back down and find the crease of his hipbones. He squirms wildly again, newfound spot possibly worse than the ribs after all.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It's all fine. They'll go right back to pretending nothing happened, very soon.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Nightmare will certainly enjoy watching Killer try to.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. in which axe and dust order pizza and don't tell anyone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyone likes to be awake during late night hours, as the silence and cool breeze of a pocket dimension is the most soothing remedy for minds that can't get a break from the festering thoughts: a description that applies to every soul sharing this house.</p>

<p></p><div>
  <p>It's <em>very</em> late, however, and tiredness is beginning to set in. Axe lies quietly, his head on a bony lap made comfortable by a pillow- pillows are essential when everybody's bones, they were quick to learn. His arm stretches for another slice of the pizza they sneaked in just for themselves, but can't quite close the distance without making big changes to his position. He lets it fall to the ground and stays put, deciding in good Sans fashion that he'd rather not move right now.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Dust mumbles something and Axe can tell by the tone it wasn't meant for him; probably talking to his own Papyrus, the one apparently always around, that only he can hear. He isn't about to call out anybody else's coping mechanism, especially when he can, despite everything, find comfort in the certainty that Spooks is alive, well and sleeping soundly in the adjacent room.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He refuses to think about the hypotheticals of what might have happened if Nightmare didn't take him in. It doesn't matter. <em>This</em> matters.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>His thoughts are interrupted by the underside of the pizza slice he had been trying to reach, suddenly blocking the sight of his good eyesocket. Dust's shoulders shake with amused chuckles as Axe slowly rolls his skull to face him, unable to keep his grin from widening and betraying the glare he wanted his expression to be.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"you're not the prettiest plate."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"not all i'm <em>cracked</em> up to be, eh?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It takes Dust a second, but he breaks into a grin of his own and drags the slice until it's mostly covering the hole on Axe's head, the dusty flour from the crust making a trail on his face.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"well? is it better now?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"nah, you look cheesy."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Axe retrieves his lukewarm eyepatch - oh dang, sweet, that's a lot of pepperoni -, takes a large bite out, then places it back where it was on his head. The spread of grease is a small price to pay for Dust's hissy giggle that follows, always quiet, ever so rare. All of his silly behavior seems to be reserved for their little bonding moments, but Axe doesn't care that no one will believe him if he tells.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>That just means more pizza for the two of them.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. in which cherie gets bullied... again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"waaheeheiI- aHahahA!"</p><p>"oh my god dude check this out. even his <em>ass</em> is ticklish."</p><p>"AHAHAA NOOHOO!" The poor guy squirms on the carpet, held in place in a strong grip so the soft ecto-flesh, poorly protected by slick, stretchy fabric, can be tortured by four hands worth of skinny bone fingers.</p><p>"oh yes!!" Axe is having the time of his life lightly scratching the shapely ecto and watching the explosive reaction to such a gentle touch.</p><p>"aw yeah, get him!" Killer holds his arms above his head, keeping the small skeleton from protecting himself. Picking on Cherie has become one of his favorite pastimes, maybe even better than stabbing. Vents the steam of jealousy in a healthy way.</p><p>Even Dust seems kind of into it this time, the traditional skeleton smile looking oddly genuine as he helps hold the other's femurs down and steady, unbudging despite the strength he's putting in his attempts to get away.</p><p>It takes a <em>lot</em> to actually embarrass the Underlust skeleton, which makes him both a valid target and a challenging one. They're not even that sure if it is at all possible, but if the way he won't look at his tormentors counts as any indication... and, hey, he doesn't even hate it <em>that</em> much. They know Nightmare would've stopped the bullshit long ago if he did, as Boss is surprisingly fond of the self-declared "slut of the house".</p><p>It's still more fun when he's not around to watch it unfold; they admittedly get a little... meaner. Cross has found a particularly sweet spot, however, and there's no way in hell anyone in a mile radius can't hear the result.</p><p>(If only they knew that even the four of them together don't <em>begin</em> to measure up to what Nightmare actually does... not that he's letting them know so they can try to, of course.)</p><p>"y-you fuckeheheersshehe..." Even after they've stopped, the giggles keep spilling out as he breathes in a much needed replenishment of air, calming down from the slight pain of laughing too hard.</p><p>"<em>we're</em> the fuckers here? ya sure?" Killer teases.</p><p>"no, you're right, nobody in this place fucks."</p><p>They bark out a laugh (yeah, fine, Kills walked right into that one), and go straight back to poking claws at the too sensitive jello-like substance covering most of his body.</p><p>There's something about being a Sans that seems to mean one never learns when to shut up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The veterans have decided among themselves that, for an indefinite stretch of time, everything any of them does wrong is going to be Cherie's fault. When Nightmare asks, they all point at him, and no one argues with the unanimity, as new bones don't get a vote. Then, he gets punished for it. Every time.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. in which they go out to eat without cross</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>this one was supposed to be a small headcanon as a response to some post, but became this. i think it fits in this fic, heh</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They go out to eat without Cross. Maybe he's spending the day with <em>someone</em>, or whatever. The waiter apparently forgets about their food completely. Nightmare, Dust, Axe and Killer pretend it isn’t happening, just looking around and trying to small talk with each other in increasingly nervous because someone from the staff's gotta notice soon, right? Please?</p><p>It’s a very busy day. Nobody notices. The problem isn’t going to solve itself. Tension rises. No one wants to say anything because if you point it out then you’re gonna be the one who has to tell someone. Everybody knows the rule.</p><p>Axe in particular doesn’t deal too well with being hungry, for personal reasons. His responses start getting more snippy. They’ve been waiting for a while now. How long, 30, 40 minutes? It’s too long! But he doesn’t have a watch, and doesn’t trust his perception of time. He refuses to be “that guy”, even when it comes to food. Why can’t life be easier so he can get a goddamn green lasagna? Oh, green lasagna… so good, so green. It’s gonna be worth it when it arrives. Axe sips his iced tea and thinks about vegetables.</p><p>If it reaches an hour I’ll say something for sure, Killer thinks to himself. That’s long enough that he won’t seem just entitled and rude! The one hour mark arrives and passes. He still hasn’t called anyone. He halfway raises his hand while making eye contact with someone in uniform, but changes the gesture to look like a relaxed stretch. Next time for sure. Maybe give them another 10 minutes. Then, he will! say something!!</p><p>Dust is just getting more and more angry that Nightmare is supposed to be their boss, but hasn’t done anything about this. The staredowns grow in intensity. Nightmare grows in drippiness, a clear sign of anxiety. Whatever, then; if he isn’t going to speak up, then Dust won’t, either.</p><p>Nightmare isn’t sure how to feel about this. His reputation is on the line, he should be a brave goo boy and take the L for the team, but can’t bring himself to do so. The distress is so strong in their table it’s overwhelming - but it’s like getting drunk on an empty stomach. Why can’t he just… okay. He will do it. He has to do it. Just say “Hey, just making sure, are our orders on the way?”, that’s it, a perfectly crafted sentence. Nobody will think they’re rude for this. Why does he even care about being rude!? They’ve terrorized many universes! Nightmare is better (or rather, worse) than this!</p><p>He brings one hand down on the table, intending to twist himself around to look at someone - and knocks over his glass. The fragile material crashes to the ground and shatters. FUCK. Everyone in the restaurant is looking at him now. Fuck!!!! Why!! A waitress comes over, having tuned into the sound, with a broom and dustpan. Nightmare has forgotten his script and is now sinking into his own chair, as if that could make him disappear. It would be the most merciful option. She sweeps up the broken glass, cleans the liquid and says she will bring another juice, on the house, no worries.</p><p>Great! How could any of them complain, now that people are being unnecessarily nice to them? They silently wish for a crappier world, and vow to make it happen. It’s just so much easier to argue with assholes, no shadow of a doubt.</p><p>Killer suddenly stands up, determination flaring strong enough to bring a human child back to life, drawing eyes to his short figure. This is his ticket to master’s admiration, he has figured. He’s going to do it. He’s attracted staff’s attention already, all there’s left is to say the words…</p><p>“hey! you guys haven’t ordered yet? i thought you’d be long done by the time i arrived!”</p><p>Cross.</p><p>His name couldn’t be more fitting, and they can almost see a halo behind him - no, actually, that’s the LED decoration on the opposite wall - as he, without further thought, talks to the closest waiter, orders for himself and reiterates the already seated sanses’ orders.</p><p>The food arrives.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. in which cross has his first experience with nightmare's bad days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warnings: trauma flashbacks, panic attack</p><p>nightmare being soft for his so-called minions, exhibit two</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cross feels the deeply rooted intuition that something's about to go very, very wrong, closely followed by a wave of fear that wrings a cold sweat from his skull. He's been warned about how when their boss is emotionally unwell, his body will give off "STAY AWAY" signs like a colorful frog that's alerting predators of the toxicity it contains, but actually experiencing it is... something else. The smell, of apple cider left alone a little past its prime, grows more intense and nauseating as he walks deeper into the house. Getting closer to the source feels insane to do, and he's suddenly thankful his room is on the second floor, the farthest away.</p>
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div><p>"Shut the door, don't think too much, don't fall asleep and most importantly, don't try to leave until it's over." That's what he was told, and he supposes they've been through it countless times, so he tries to follow the steps of those who know. But the air weighs on his shoulders like a conscience, and the energy for even just <em>walking</em> is draining quickly.</p></div><div><p>Lying on the living room couch is not a good decision, but Cross was never known for making good decisions, and the spiral of despair robs him of agency. He's shaking, both from the hard drop in temperature and from the overwhelm of emotion, as he curls up. Tears well up in his eyesockets, for no apparent reason, and he feels disoriented and too afraid to move.</p></div><div><p>The voice that utters his name is low, soft and non-threatening, but it's a jumpscare to him nevertheless, a shot of adrenaline which drives him to sit up too quickly, wide-eyed and filled with utmost dread. It's probably a good thing that he has no energy right now, or else he might've put a sharp bone through the other.</p></div><div><p>"shh. shh. it's just me." Killer's palms face forward, trying to convey his intentions.</p></div><div><p>Cross doesn't relax as he is unable to, but doesn't protest the approach, either.</p></div><div><p>Killer sits beside him, and only then Cross's blurry vision focuses on his face so he notices - the tar-like substance isn't dripping from his sockets in the slow, collected pace he's used to watching. It floods, overflows, a continuous stream staining his cheeks, and the corners of his mouth, and seeping into the fabric of his black sweater. It's a terrifying sight, so Cross averts his eyelights.</p></div><div><p>"touch okay?" Killer inquires.</p></div><div><p>He tries to respond, but words won't come out, so he just nods instead.</p></div><div><p>Feeling the pressure of another body against his turns out to be incredibly soothing; it almost distracts from the hurricane of negativity that only seems to slowly worsen. The surprised squeak that comes out of him, however, shows how much he did <em>not</em> expect to be lifted like a sack of potatoes and carried across the house in a hurried large stride.</p></div><div><p>"you're in for a... a very bad time if-if you stay... there... can't have... can't..." Killer trails off and shakes his head, finding it too hard to focus enough to craft a sentence that long.</p></div><div><p>Cross hears his own mind yell at him that they're going the wrong way, the weight of emotions increasing with each step as the other skeleton takes him... straight to Nightmare. When the door to the room opens, Cross screams, visions of things he'd rather forget and voices of people he's left behind floating to the front of his consciousness.</p></div><div><p>He has no clue how much time passes before slime and darkness surround him, as he is cradled by new limbs of both the vertebrate and the invertebrate kind - and he can't even hear, let alone understand what his boss is trying to communicate, but follows the sound of his voice until he manages to stop screaming, at least. His sockets sting, his head pounds, he makes no move to stop the appendages from reaching under his ribcage and, the moment they make contact with his soul, it all stops.</p></div><div><p>Dim streetlight graces the room, from behind the blackout curtains. It highlights the rough shapes of furniture, and the rough shape of Nightmare; without the glow of either of their typically present eyelights, it is the sole light source. The sensation of goopy tentacles wriggling under his ribs and against his spine is an odd, uncomfortable one; he can't help but squirm a little from it.</p></div><div><p>When there's only emptiness, all that's left is to focus on the physical, and the void grows inside. He briefly wonders if this is how Ink must feel, all the time.</p></div><div><p>
        <em>"I'm sorry."</em>
      </p></div><div><p>Cross abruptly looks up, unsure if the main reason he's startled was the suddenness of the sound, or the fact <em>that</em> was said by <em>Nightmare</em>.</p></div><div><p>
        <em>"None of you should have to be dragged down with me."</em>
      </p></div><div><p>Cross still has no energy to come up with a reply, so he narrows his sockets in understanding; a gesture respectfully stolen from cats. The tentacles slither around, which makes him squirm some more.</p></div><div><p>Nightmare pulls him up into a proper hug, reaching the brink of too tight a squeeze, then loosening into just right.</p></div><div><p>They remain this way for a long time, long enough that Cross thinks he might have fallen asleep in the darker skeleton's arms; he was certainly exhausted enough for it to be a possibility. A pang of embarrassment courses through him with this thought, and is subsequently amplified by the realization he <em>did </em>fall asleep, as there's nothing inside his body to immediately take that feeling away anymore. Violet-colored warmth tints his face as he politely and wordlessly separates himself from Nightmare, who seemed to be content waiting for him to decide when to leave.</p></div><div><p>Nightmare's gaze is piercing until Cross is fully out the door and out of sight, a wistful two-thousand yard stare that's a strange look on him, as it seems to carry the easily forgotten amount he has actually lived.</p><p>More bad days are sure to come.</p></div><div><p>Cross swears to be there, always.</p></div></div></div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. in which some friction happens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i can't stop going back and forth in the timeline...<br/>this is a little after cherie joins the posse.<br/>mentions of suggestive stuff, nothing more.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nothing really triggers it. Killer has just been letting these feelings stew for a while, and when he finally finds himself sitting alone in the kitchen, alone other than the excessive amount of exposed bones he's watching saunter about on tippytoes, hips swaying, the words come out without thought.</p><p>“what the fuck is your deal?”</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>“hm?” The skeleton spins around to face him, infuriatingly graceful.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“you just waltz in here one day, flirt with everything that moves, thinking you’re the hottest stuff…”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cherie doesn’t think, he is the hottest stuff, but he manages to bite back the snappy remark.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“…boss protects you for stars know what fucking reason – oh, yeah, the fucking reason, of course. stupid me.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He bends over to rest his forearms on the table across from Killer, only intertwining fingers and raising a brow in response, letting the rant continue.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“and suddenly we, the ones doing the dirty work in here, all have to step back and give you special treatment, just because you're…”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Killer seems to hesitate for an instant, but says it anyway.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“…just because you’re his <em>bitch</em>?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>His void sockets stare deep into round, bright, painfully normal white eyelights.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“i’ll just leave a warning… they may treat you that way, but you’re not getting it from me.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cherie smirks.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“and you’re not getting it from nightmare.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“you fuckin'-!” Killer starts, slamming down on the table as he stands to stride over to the offending skeleton, the hint of a blush highlighting black liquid tracks on his cheeks. Cherie straightens his own spine back up, demi-pointé making it so he’s staring down at Killer, even though their heights are the same.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“ya say idiotic shit to me once more, i'mma say fuck all to what nightmare thinks, and i swear ya won’t even see me coming before it’s too late!”</p>
  <p>Even with Killer's hostile intent right up in his face, the corners of his grin curl upwards again.</p>
  <p>"what?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“t-thahat’s… that’s what he sa-”</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The backhand across the jaw that reply earns Cherie echoes on the tiled kitchen, upsetting his balance enough to make him topple over, catching himself on the countertop. Still, it only makes him laugh more.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>“hey, it’s not my fault you’re emotionally constipated. might wanna clean that up, or nighty won't wanna put his d-"</p>
  <p>"SHUT UP!"</p>
  <p>Another hit. That one's gonna leave a bruise, he thinks.</p>
  <p>Killer's fist grabs the round collar of the other's oversized T-shirt.</p>
  <p>"you have no. idea. what i've been through."</p>
  <p>Despite the tar that fills and continuously leaks from his eyesockets, there's still a flash of white behind it all. It makes Cherie's expression of defiance soften.</p>
  <p>"you're right. i really don't."</p>
  <p>Killer's softens, too, and so does his grip.</p>
  <p>They continue to look at each other, tension dissipating, as silent breaths communicate a world weariness that feels more alike than they thought.</p>
  <p>"...don't give me that stupid pity look," he grumbles without edge as he lets go of the fabric, leaning back and sticking his hands in his hoodie's pockets.</p>
  <p>"sorry. here, let me try a different one."</p>
  <p>Cherie brings a finger between his own teeth and tilts his skull down, looking up at Killer in his best seductive gaze.</p>
  <p>"how's this?~"</p>
  <p>It makes Killer laugh despite himself, and he lightly shoves the other.</p>
  <p>"dumbass."</p>
  <p>Cherie grins back.</p>
  <p>"can i get my cereal now?"</p>
  <p>"don't touch the corn flakes."</p>
  <p>"oh, i would never."</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. in which kills is rescued and gets some revenge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>is it trash time again? ya bet!<br/>starts as just nightkiller, becomes everyone.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>
  <em>"Fuckin' weirdo, that’s what you are.”</em>
</p><p>The touches, as always, are perfectly measured.</p><p>
  <em>“Enjoying everything I do. You weird little creep."</em>
</p><p>Somehow, the deep crimson blush he's sporting grows even more intense, thanks to the reminder of how empathy superpowers make that fact very intimately known.</p><p>
  <em>"Even the insults, huh? Interesting."</em>
</p><p>Nightmare is finding spots the other didn't even know he had, making him thrash about, laughing his little head off.</p><p>Killer has become his second go-to victim, made easy by the fact he doesn't even attempt to fight back. He just lets it happen, accepting it as bonding playtime, despite the major one-sidedness of it. More than that, he likes it, he likes the feeling of Nightmare's hands all over his body, forcing him to submit, putting him in his place.</p><p>Perhaps in more ways than one, but that's a different story.</p><p>The amount of trust the black-eyed skeleton holds in Nightmare is ridiculous, even as he pushes it again and again: saying he'll do one thing and doing another, ignoring his pleas, even doing this in front of the others, causing him to blush and sputter and embarrass himself. Yet Killer's loyalty and trust in his master are endless, unfaltering. He knows he doesn't really have to take this if he doesn't want to, but... hey, it's fun.</p><p>And his laughter is as delicious as the mild ripples of panic emitted by his soul.</p><p>"Nihightmaahehere!"</p><p><em>"Hmm?"</em> Nightmare realizes he's been smiling. Doesn't know for how long now, but he doesn't stop. The hands, however, do.</p><p>Killer whimpers, curling up as he clings to the other's slimy figure, hiding his glowing red face into him<em>.</em></p><p>
  <em>"Aww. No, no hiding."</em>
</p><p>Killer tentatively looks back up. Nightmare tilts his chin further upward, touching teeth to his forehead.</p><p>He knows Nightmare doesn't – perhaps even can’t - reciprocate his feelings, but that doesn't matter. They both enjoy this, and getting used a little is good for the soul, isn't it? Other people may not understand why, but this pretend game is good enough for him. Gets his fill of cuddles, attention and torturous touches alike, so who cares?</p><p>The curled up Killer gets flipped and pulled flush against his chest.</p><p>Fingers crawl up and down his ribs, keeping him giggly and squirmy. Anyone else would've gotten a blade to the neck; this is Nightmare, however, and Night can do whatever he wants. Nightmare doing whatever he wants to him floods his metaphorical heart with warmth, especially since it would be so easy - and probably decently satisfying, considering his nature - but he doesn't hurt Killer. Ever.</p><p>He does, however, tickle, and that's exactly what he's doing right now, all gentle flutters on sensitive bones.</p><p>"kills! i'll save ya dude!"</p><p>The Guardian of Negativity sensed him coming a mile away, of course, but pretends not to until he is within range of getting caught in a tentacle wrap. Cross shrieks when the inevitable happens, getting coated with slime as he's slammed down on the mattress.</p><p><em>"Do you </em>ever<em> think before you act, Cross?"</em></p><p>"thinking? that's expecting too much of me... but someone else might."</p><p>
  <em>"What does th-"</em>
</p><p>Axe, Dust and Cherie teleport inside the room simultaneously, Axe swooping Killer from Night's grasp while the others tackle him. The surprise alone causes the hold on Cross to lighten enough for him to free himself.</p><p>Even in a four-on-one such as this, if no one's using magic, Nightmare still holds his own; it may even be skewed in his favor, due to his ancient entity status, how much monsters typically rely on magic, and how much he doesn't. There are enough tentacles with minds of their own for everyone to wrestle with, and he easily slings his subordinates away like they weigh nothing.</p><p>It isn't without much difficulty, but at last they manage to pin the struggling Nightmare face-down, with all appendages properly restrained.</p><p>
  <em>"Good job, bitches, only took all of you."</em>
</p><p>"silence, captive! we didn't say you could speak!"</p><p>Cherie's commanding tone is a rare sight outside of plain roleplay. It never fails to send a chill down everyone's spine.</p><p>Nightmare does shut up, but the grin on his face only widens.</p><p>"not even all of us, kills was busy recovering from the unspeakable acts he was subjected to", Cross corrects.</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah, well, what's the difference?"</em>
</p><p>Killer gasps, bringing a hand to his chest in an expression of ultimate betrayal, followed by a chorus of "ooh" and "yeesh".</p><p>"and ya show no remorse for it... how vile of ya, boss!"</p><p>"y'know what i think? i think nighty needs to be on the other side so he knows what it's like”, Axe prompts.</p><p>"yeah, agreed. what do ya say, dusty?"</p><p>"i say killer should get to do it. he's the one who deserves the most... reparations."</p><p>Killer's eyesockets widen, and he blushes up a storm yet again as the whole room turns to him expectantly. The look on Nightmare's face is unreadable.</p><p>"i- i-"</p><p>"sweetpea? don't tell me you're gonna pass this up?"</p><p>"c'mon, ya probably know what to do better than us, man."</p><p>They're right, he can't let his nerves stop him from taking such an opportunity! Nightmare's single glowing eye trained on him certainly isn't helping, though. He isn't even struggling anymore, just calmly waiting to see what will happen.</p><p>Killer nervously approaches and sits on him, straddling his back. Nightmare exhales with a little pleased groan, as he always does in response to weight laid on his spine. Back pain is a bitch.</p><p>"is he- is he even... ti-...tick...lish?"</p><p>"that's for you to find out", Axe says with a wink.</p><p>"o-okay..."</p><p>They hold down a little tighter when Killer moves to tentatively prod along his sides, pushing the layer of goop out of the way to get at his ribs. No reaction.</p><p>He tries his arms, and then his hipbones, getting nothing but a condescending smirk. The stars can't be this unfair, right? There's gotta be a spot somewhere. They touch his tentacles all the time to no effect, so that's ruled out...</p><p>...or perhaps not, as when he tries to move one aside to reach the spine, Nightmare's entire body jerks.</p><p>"no way."</p><p>“oh my stars.”</p><p>"do it again do it again!"</p><p>Killer does it again, but this time it's a niiice and slooow scritch. Nightmare presses his face against the pillow underneath to hide the involuntary trembling smile he can't hold back, but there's no concealing how the tentacles try so hard to flail in defense, the other skeletons nearly let go of them.</p><p>It's only when exploring fingers reach the base of his extra appendages, right where it connects to the back of the ribcage, that he starts to giggle frantically. Everyone lights up like they've just won the lottery - which they might as well have done.</p><p>"holy shit night that's so cute.” Dust says it in a teasing tone, but the sincerity of the statement is clear.</p><p>The "fuck you" he lifts his head to say in reply comes out way too tittery to hold any bite.</p><p>“I- I h-hohope you knohohow you’re dead. You’re all deheheheead!”</p><p>Axe secures the slimy tentacle and wrist he is holding behind his knees, leaving his hands free for poking and squeezing at the spots Killer isn’t currently taking care of. Nightmare pulls harder at his restraints, a reflex made useless by the fact he cannot use any of his extensions to protect himself.</p><p>However cool he may try to play, he's clearly not used to being exposed and vulnerable like this, making the squeal that follows a particular treat.</p><p>“oh, this is worth dying for.”</p><p>Killer keeps it up for a while, the blush on both Nightmare's skull and his own slowly intensifying. He's doing his best to mentally record this moment, to hopefully replay it later when he has access to a pillow to crush in his arms and the solitude to screech freely.</p><p>He wouldn’t think about the hugged pillow actually being Nightmare, of course. That’d be silly.</p><p>“a-ahehe, s-sorry boss, i uh…”</p><p>He stops, only softly running his hand over the spot instead. Nightmare lets out a rather uncharacteristic whine and continues to lightly squirm.</p><p>
  <em>"Th-that still tickles, you fuck!”</em>
</p><p>“shh nighty, you’re still on edge. here, lemme help ya relax~” Cherie smirks, sharing a mischievous glance with the others.</p><p>And then he's doing the same thing as Killer and someone else joins in and Nightmare just flops in defeat, helplessly shaking with airy giggles. He's got a noticeable blush now but has given up on trying to hide it, as his dignity is long gone anyway.</p><p>“okay boss… we'll be so kind as to letcha go, if ya promise there will be no retaliation”, Dust speaks up.</p><p><em>"Absolutely not, you pricks are getting what’s coming to yaAHAHA-“</em> He's interrupted by the sudden return to fast squeezes and pinches.</p><p>“nah, that’s not the answer i want.”</p><p>
  <em>“Ohohoh my stARS fuck ahahah- Okay okay fine no retaliation ehehEHE STOHOP!”</em>
</p><p>They all stop and wait for Killer to get off before letting Nightmare go, backing away just in case. He immediately curls into himself, tentacles protectively wrapping his body, breathing in some comforting oxygen; the gang watches in silence, admittedly a little afraid. No one’s more afraid than Killer however, eyes leaking black at an alarming rate as he feels like he’s done something very wrong.</p><p>“boss…? a-are you…”</p><p>
  <em>“You asshats going to sit there and stare all day, or will you come here already?”</em>
</p><p>It takes another while for anyone to decide to approach, so Nightmare takes matters into his own hands and blindly extends a tentacle to pull the one closest to him. Axe lets out a surprised yelp, before being promptly made into a little spoon.</p><p>It reassures the others enough for them to come and settle in a neat cuddle pile of bones on the mattress, bringing the scattered pillows and blankets in to help with cushioning. Nightmare wraps around each of his subordinates, warming them up at the same time he's making all as slimy as himself.</p><p>He won’t fall asleep; he knows what happens if he does while others are this close…</p><p>…but the pets he's getting sure are making it hard not to.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. in which nightmare is a trap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>direct sequence to the previous chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“what do i do?!”</p><p>“i don’t know!”</p><p>They’re whispering, trying not to make too much noise and alert him of their predicament, despite the proximity.</p><p>“wake 'im up?”</p><p>“dude, boss never sleeps, let him!”</p><p>“maybe we can disentangle ya...”</p><p>Axe attempts to pull him out, to no avail.</p><p>“shit, yer trapped good.”</p><p>"sweet” Dust rolls his eyelights.</p><p>“you’re not pulling hard enough, lemme try.”</p><p>Killer hooks his arms on the stuck skeleton's, preparing to pull...</p><p>...but before he can, another of Nightmare’s tentacles coils around, squishing him against Dust.</p><p>“wait no no-“</p><p>A third wraps around his arms at the elbows, pressing them against his sides.“</p><p>"great going, dumbass”</p><p>Killer tries to wriggle free, but soon gives up with a frustrated sigh.</p><p>"might as well enjoy the cuddle, huh?”, Axe says in a <em>tone</em> that makes him glow red.</p><p>Might as well.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. in which the stars are real enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warning for mention of genocide run and head voices being unkind</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sleep hasn’t been an option for the past three days, and Dust has had trouble making time pass while everyone’s asleep; the glow of sunrise is still only a hint at the horizon, even though it’s nearly 8 AM. The shiny, far away objects encrusted on the dark sky blanket he spends so long looking at may not be real, but the crisp, cool breeze certainly is. Doesn’t matter much, what’s real, what’s not. He’ll take the Surface however it comes. Even if it’s not the one he once thought might be a possibility.</p><p>He may know he’s here, on a hammock on their shared house's porch, but a tiny part of him still expects to wake up in his old Snowdin house, ready to watch everyone’s hopes dissipate again. They didn’t deserve it. He just did what had to be done.</p><p>And you deserve to live with it, Ash adds. It’s very clearly backhanded, but Dust chooses to receive it positively: he deserves to live, no matter who may think otherwise. Nightmare said he does, so he does. He questions himself far more than he questions his boss.</p><p>He was a free spirit once, but now there’s comfort to be found in relinquishing the control he already didn’t have anyway. Would likely waste away, left alone. Maybe he'd deserve that, too.</p><p>“hey?”</p><p>His soul nearly jumps out of his bones at the sudden sound. He's grown used to LV awareness, the buzzing density of the air around the others in the gang, announcing their presence before any other sense can. He's used to noticing Dream's aura and the soft rustling of Ink's clothes and the way his own time perception slows when a portal opens; he <em>isn’t</em> used to this damned new guy who carries none of that, and though he may say the sneaking up is not on purpose, Dust suspects Cherie gets some enjoyment out of startling his way stronger pals.</p><p>Who can blame him? He'd absolutely do the same. If he could manage such light steps, that is.</p><p>Never having been much attracted to anybody, Dust doesn’t have an intuitive understanding of the universe he stems from. More than that, he doesn’t understand why Nightmare decided this helplessly weak skeleton is worth having around. He can think of many Sanses who would be a better choice.</p><p>Any Fell universe, for example. Geno, possibly. Epic…? No, not Error, he tells his Papyrus when the suggestion comes. Error's problematic.</p><p>Oops, he's been staring. Into the distance, yes; Cherie just so happens to be blocking the view.</p><p>Yeah, he has no right to find anyone weird. Not when he wouldn’t come close to fitting anyone’s definition of normal.</p><p>A freak <em>and</em> a hypocrite, that’s what he is, Ash whispers, and it echoes in his skull. Those are his defining characteristics. Nothing more of value. What’s he good for, besides hurting others?</p><p>“ya all right, sweetpea?”</p><p>The tone is soothing. Despite how softly those words are said, it drowns out the louder, harsher voice in his head. For now.</p><p>He looks away.</p><p>“mind if i stay?”</p><p>Dust doesn’t want to speak now, or move at all, so he just refocuses his eyelights on Cherie’s white soul-shaped ones and narrows his sockets. The other mirrors the gesture, accompanying it with a small smile. His cheeks light up pink, as they are most of the time.</p><p>Cherie pulls a chair for himself to sit, not uncomfortably close, not too far. Although the rest of the guys sometimes come on a little strong, Dust's never had to state his boundaries with this one. Everything about his attitude and apparent lack of any need for personal space would suggest otherwise, but somehow Cherie seems to just… know. And thus, he keeps at a distance.</p><p>For some reason, that makes the hooded skeleton want him to come closer, so he can look at the constellation of bright spots on his face instead of the ones in the sky, for these are significantly more real, more tangible.</p><p>Not enough to ask, though. That’d be weird.</p><p>Would it…?</p><p>Maybe he’s starting to understand Nightmare, after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. in which cross reconsiders how he's been treated</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>...yeah, it's the tickles again. i assume everyone has come to expect this by now. :p</p><p>this is also shortly after cross has joined, probably around the same time as chapter 5.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"I'm not gonna ask again. Who. Broke it?"</em>
</p><p>Cross ducks his head and raises a hand.</p><p>"i did..."</p><p>Nightmare pinches the bridge of his non-existent nose, and sighs. "Be more careful, please. Are you hurt?"</p><p>"n-no?" He looks back up.</p><p>
  <em>"Good. Just... clean that shit up, then. Dismissed."</em>
</p><p>The others turn to leave, but Cross seems stunned. He can't get himself to move. Nightmare pulls his own phone out, scrolling without paying much mind.</p><p>"so... i'm not... getting punished...?"</p><p>Nightmare looks back up from the phone.</p><p>
  <em>"No...?"</em>
</p><p>Cross' eyesockets widen and his features twist in confusion. "but... but i deserve it, right? i b- i- i broke something of yours!"</p><p><em>"Do you </em>want<em> to be punished, or what? I mean, even if you did, that seems like it'd defeat the purpose, no?"</em> He smirks.</p><p>"no...! no no it's not like that!! it's just, y'know,... to learn...? not to do it again?"</p><p>Nightmare pats the seat next to him. <em>"Crossbuns, come here."</em></p><p>Cross walks over, nervously, and sits next to Nightmare.</p><p>
  <em>"Did you break the glass on purpose, to antagonize me?"</em>
</p><p>"no, sir! of course not!"</p><p><em>"Okay, stop with the "sir". That's weird."</em><br/> <br/>"yes, si- i mean- i'm sorry s-" His boss gives him a look and he laughs, on reflex, then feels scared and guilty for having done so - but Nightmare just seems amused, and even somewhat proud to have made him laugh.</p><p>
  <em>"Anyway. If you didn't mean to do it, I won't punish you for an accident. They happen, big deal. Got more serious shit to worry about."</em>
</p><p>Cross looks away.</p><p><em>"But hey, since you wanna be punished so badly, I can provide that."</em> Nightmare quickly wraps his tentacles around the other skeleton, feeling the Soul race in Cross' chest.</p><p>"i... wait!"</p><p>
  <em>"Wait for what, Oreo? If I don't appropriately punish you, you might, I dunno, go around and break more things, or whatever criminals do."</em>
</p><p>Cross feels slimy hands crawl inside the collar of his turtleneck.</p><p>"wh-what are you doi...?!"</p><p><em>"This~"</em> Nightmare wiggles his fingers against the other's neck bones and clavicles.</p><p>"eh-ehehehe-" Cross' shoulders come up, trying in vain to shield him from the gentle touch.</p><p><em>"Accept righteous justice for your wrongdoings, sinner!"</em> He continues, speeding up, pinching here and there, to great effect.</p><p>"hehehehahah!! eep!"</p><p><em>"Are you ready to repent? Do you regret your actions?"</em> His phalanges trail onto the sides of Cross' skull, making the giggles rise in pitch. Nightmare's smile grows fonder.</p><p>"heee ahahaha! y-yehehehes! i'm sorryehehe!"</p><p><em>"Okay then, little shit."</em> He pokes the other skeleton's sensitive spots a few more times, then finally stops, holding him close.</p><p>
  <em>"I want the best for you guys. Really."</em>
</p><p>Cross blushes a little, already flushed from the previous ordeal.</p><p>
  <em>"And I don't know how they did things where you're from, but in here, we do it like this. If I ever feel you need to be punished, then you will be, proportionately to the offense. But if you're trying your best, whatever that may look like at any given time, then I have no good reason to. Understood?"</em>
</p><p>He hesitates, but is driven to reply with a hurried "alright alright!!" by a few pokes to the spine. Nightmare grins, pulling Cross in for a warm hug, wrapping all he's got around him. Cross hugs him back somewhat awkwardly, but Nighty makes it good by himself, anyway.</p><p>He pulls away after some great hug time, waving him off with a hand. <em>"Go clean it up now, intern. Go, shoo, shoo."</em></p><p>"yes, yes... boss!" Cross gets up to find a broom and dustpan, feeling a lot... lighter?</p><p>And like he's got a lifetime to think about.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. in which feelings are had</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>warning for very minor knife injury.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"he... he's just stringing you along!"</p>

<p></p><div>
  <p>Killer doesn't look up from the onion he's dicing into molecule-sized pieces.</p>
  <p>"it's almost painful to watch. why do you do this?"</p>
  <p>"i dunno, it's satisfying to watch things get smaller."</p>
  <p>"ha ha, very funny. you know that's not what i'm talking about. i'm serious, kills."</p>
  <p>He scrapes the tiny pieces of purple onion onto a container, picking up another and starting to cut again.</p>
  <p>"he's not <em>capable</em> of feeling the same, y'know."</p>
  <p>"so?"</p>
  <p>"so? so you're my friend! and i don't want you getting hurt by some asshole!"</p>
  <p>"cross."</p>
  <p>It's a warning, and Cross should know better than to shit-talk Nightmare next to Killer, but right now he doesn't care about knowing better.</p>
  <p>"that's what he probably wants anyway."</p>
  <p>
    <em>"cross."</em>
  </p>
  <p>"you know he thrives on it!"</p>
  <p>Killer slams the knife extra hard on the cutting board, drawing his other hand back with a hiss as he brings his thumb to his mouth.</p>
  <p>"fuck!"</p>
  <p>"shoot, are you okay?!" Cross rushes to his side.</p>
  <p>"just a chip. i'm fine."</p>
  <p>The substance in his eyes tells a different story, however, freely dripping down his cheeks.</p>
  <p>"i'm sorry... i shouldn't have..."</p>
  <p>"my fault, not yours. forget it."</p>
  <p>Killer slumps down on a chair next to Cross, onions abandoned for the moment.</p>
  <p>Some time passes in awkward silence before he speaks again.</p>
  <p>"sometimes i ask myself the same things. sometimes i wonder if i'm just <em>stupid.</em>"</p>
  <p>"..."</p>
  <p>"if i'm just too caught up in a fantasy to see the truth of things. if boss really just keeps me around because i'll suffer more in the long run! i'm just another tool, right?!"</p>
  <p>"you-"</p>
  <p>"but that's where the catch comes in, cross - <em>i can't bring myself to give a shit!</em>"</p>
  <p>The liquid is still flowing; Cross suspects there are actual tears mixed in, now, but cannot tell for sure.</p>
  <p>"i <em>am</em> stupid! i'm the stupidest fucking monster in the world. nightmare doesn't feel the same, i can't shake these feelings, and- and- somehow, i don't <em>want</em> to!"</p>
  <p>Killer feels his wrist get gripped on the kitchen table and that's all it takes for him to break down sobbing, leaning his head on the other's shoulder and staining his pearly white jacket fluff with the heaps of black liquid.</p>
  <p>"why... why am i like this? why does playing pretend make me so h-happy? i'm so pathetic!"</p>
  <p>Cross' arms envelop his torso; he's warm, soft, and it makes Killer feel even more frail and small.</p>
  <p>"you're not pathetic, kills."</p>
  <p>He continues to cry, holding onto Cross like his life depends on it.</p>
  <p>"if... he makes you happy, i guess that's all that matters."</p>
  <p>Killer looks up from the ruined jacket in what could only be described as puppy eyes. "...you really think so...?"</p>
  <p>Cross gently cups his face, brushing the tears away with the stroke of a thumb. The gesture, meant to be sweet and comforting, simply produces a horrible black smear all over his cheek, and it takes substantial effort for Cross to keep from laughing at the sight.</p>
  <p>"...yeah. i don't have to understand. i just- i want you to be happy."</p>
  <p>The smile and blush that paint Killer's face upon hearing that tug at something within Cross...</p>
  <p>He might want to be the cause of that, too.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. in which...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>two timeskips in this one. first part is when killer first joins. the second is... some time after that.</p><p>the third is a long time after that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"what now...?"</p><p>
  <em>"I don't know."</em>
</p><p>He's noticed Killer's eyelights are nowhere to be seen most of the time; it's mildly disturbing, not knowing where he's looking at any given moment. He's also noticed the plethora of emotions permeating the air, and the way Killer follows him around the house, aimless.</p><p>
  <em>"Why are you following me? Watch TV, read a book, go outside, I don't care. You're driving me crazy."</em>
</p><p>"ok."</p><p>That<em> also</em> drives him crazy, how he will obey without so much as hesitating; however, at least Killer is out of his sight for the rest of the day, even as his conflicted emotions hang in the air.</p><p>Nightmare wonders if it was a good idea to bring this guy in in the first place. His strange, troubled but compliant nature made him seem like a perfect subordinate, one that would keep the negativity supply high while doing whatever was asked of him.<br/>
However, it felt uneasy to be in the presence of someone like him. He stares too long, he destroys things that are given to him, he lashes out if anyone gets too close.</p><p>But Nightmare decided to take chances.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Black slime flows continuously from Killer's sockets as he wakes up from another nightmare, terrified and upset. </p><p>He nearly screams upon noticing the figure on his doorway, barely suggested by the faraway downstairs light.</p><p>"stars... you scared me..."</p><p><em>"I'm aware. You're quite the snack when you sleep."</em> Nightmare smirks, ever so slightly.</p><p>"t-that's creepy! you watch me sleep?!" Killer retorts indignantly, his cheeks beginning to glow.</p><p>The smirk doesn't falter.<em> "I was talking about those feelings you're emitting all over the house. That's funny of you to say, though... seeing as I've noticed you do the same several times."</em></p><p>Killer looks away, face burning hotter. "i... i wasn't... i..."</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Brought you some hot chocolate."</em>
</p><p>He stares nonplussed as Nightmare approaches and hands him the mug.</p><p>"for me...?"</p><p>
  <em>"No, dumbass, for Santa Claus. Leave it out, he might bring you a brain cell."</em>
</p><p>Despite the bite of the remark, the edges of Killer's mouth curl upwards a little in amusement as he sips the beverage. </p><p>Killer opens his mouth, then closes it again, deciding against saying something.</p><p>
  <em>"What?"</em>
</p><p>"n... nothing."</p><p>
  <em>"No, say it."</em>
</p><p>"can... you stay?"</p><p>It's Nightmare's turn to be taken aback. He cannot see how his presence is pleasant in any way; his aura is probably actively making Killer feel worse just being close to him and, were he to sit down on the bed, it would quickly become dirty and gross.</p><p>It's only the first of many surprises.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The hesitant voice is quiet. If it hadn't been spoken against Nightmare's ribs, so close the skeletons' shapes begin to confuse themselves with each other, he might have missed it.</p><p>"i don't want this to end."</p><p>
  <em>"This?"</em>
</p><p>"just... this. what we have. i know there's no point to wishing for something that will never happen, but..."</p><p>
  <em>"I don't... quite understand, Kills."</em>
</p><p>"how do you feel about me, boss?"</p><p>
  <em>"You're the most loyal to me, no doubt. And I enjoy your company."</em>
</p><p>"yeah, but- you don't... feel the same way i do, right? be honest, please."</p><p>Nightmare takes in a deep breath, then lets it out in a sigh.</p><p>
  <em>"No, I don't think so. I'm sorry."</em>
</p><p>It hurts him, hearing that. It hurts Killer and Nightmare hates how good it feels, he wishes he could do away with this awful bodily function just this once, wishes he could reciprocate, wishes it were the other way around and he were the one to deal with this instead. But it's not; it's the skeleton in his arms who has to come to terms with it, and Nightmare wonders if he should've just lied instead.</p><p>
  <em>"I understand if whatever this is doesn't feel real enough for you. You deserve someone who can fulfill your needs."</em>
</p><p>"yeah, but i still want <em>you</em>."</p><p>Killer clings tighter, like he's scared the other might slip away at any moment. His emotions are conflicted and wild, as they always are. Night can distinguish but not feel them himself beyond a slight hint, in this twisted mockery of empathy he feels utterly cursed with.</p><p>He doesn't know if he should try to comfort Killer. His tentacles certainly do, however, and he tries his best not to let his attention wander - so they don't decide to wrap around the body on top of his, to pull it closer and claim it as their own.</p><p>
  <em>"Maybe I'm selfish for this, but... I don't want it to end, either."</em>
</p><p>Killer sobs, the pent-up tears having thinned his eye goop, flowing along with it. They mix with Nightmare's slime, one and the same. There's nothing to clean up.</p><p>"then please don't let it end."</p><p>Nightmare forgoes his inner debate over what's the right course of action and envelops Killer, trying to shield him from the world, hoping the one he should be shielded from isn't Nightmare himself.</p><p>"boss, i..." Killer can't believe what's he's about to say and he shouldn't say it, but he feels it so, so intensely, and he can't stop himself from externalizing it despite the shame and regret.</p><p>"...i love you..."</p><p>He rests his skull on Nightmare's chest like he's done so many times, nestled so neatly in his arms, knowing he won't hear it back. It's easier, in a way. The pain in his Soul isn't gone, but for now the pressure is, and he rests easy.</p><p><em>"A horrible decision, really-"</em> The abrupt ending of the sentence and the way Nightmare's eyesocket widens after he says it show very clearly that it was completely by reflex.</p><p>His attempt to apologize gets interrupted by the other's laughter, the negativity quickly fading away. Killer can't get himself to stop for a while - it's a thing, Night's learned, once you get him going it's hard to stop - and Nightmare just holds him, all the while he shakes with helpless giggles in his arms.</p><p>Where he belongs.</p><p>When he finally stops for good, his smile remains, soft and bright, in stark contrast to the dark tear tracks.</p><p>It reminds Nightmare of the two of them. </p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. in which a movie night happens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>oh no, we're falling.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"hey sexybones." Axe's hands squeeze his shoulders in a strange greeting.</p><p>The shriek Cherie lets out brings instant karma, making Axe jump as well, but not enough to erase his smug grin. The scantily clad skeleton turns around, a hand on his chest and pure indignation on his face.<br/> <br/>"can't you announce your- your presence <em>before</em> you're right behind me?!" </p><p>"nah, this is more fun."</p><p>"honestly..." He huffs. "what do you want?"</p><p>"to invite ya for a movie. with dust 'n me."</p><p>"oh. are the, uh, others coming?"</p><p>"just us tonight. we'll make caramel popcorn."</p><p>"this feels like a trap. is it a trap?" Cherie eyes him suspiciously, reminded of all the pranks everyone seems to think he's the perfect target for.</p><p>"that's for ya to find out." Axe smirks. "but really, i'm gonna go make the popcorn now, come join me."</p><p>"boss let us use the kitchen?" His eyesockets twinkle a little.</p><p>"if nothin' explodes this time. come <em>ooonn</em>, it'll be fun."</p><p>"...fine. but if it <em>is</em> a trap i'll never forgive you."</p><p>"seems fair to me."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"...and now we wait for the first one to pop before puttin' on the lid."</p><p>"why not just leave it on and spare the watching time" Dust chimes in, looking impatient.</p><p>"i dunno, pal, it's what the recipe said, so i'm doin' it."</p><p>"<em>you're</em> not doing anything, you're s-sitting there on your phone while i hold a thin barrier between myself and, um, <em>imminent destruction?</em>" Cherie's eyelights dart from the pan to Axe and back as he hovers the lid above it, trying to predict the start of the popping.</p><p>"hey, someone's gotta check the instructions. 'n to be frank, i'm scared of that thing."</p><p>
  <em>"well, so am i!!"</em>
</p><p>Dust points a finger gun. "how can you be frank when you're axe"</p><p>At just the right moment, a loud "pop" (followed by the usual startled Cherie noise, and the scramble to close the pan) is heard, and Axe takes the opportunity to clutch his own ribcage, doubling over like he's been shot.</p><p>"oh no, man down." Dust runs to crouch at his side - he's dramatically sliding down from the chair, letting himself fall to the floor.</p><p>"so this is how i go... <em>(cough, cough)</em> leave me behind, dusty! i can still hear the gunshots, ya need to get... somewhere safe..."</p><p>The "gunshots" continue in the background, Cherie rolling the corn inside the pan to aid the popping while watching the scene unfold.</p><p>Dust cradles his friend's cheek with his fingers, with an attempt at an expression of sadness that looks more like he has just bitten into a lemon. Axe struggles not to break character.</p><p>"i won't leave you now after all you've done for me"</p><p>"it's the only way... go, my friend, and tell boss... i..." He coughs again. "i..."</p><p>"tell boss what?!"</p><p>Dust shakes him a little, but to no avail; his eyes close, and he goes limp.</p><p>"noooooo"</p><p>He looks to the ceiling in despair for a moment, hugging Axe's unmoving body - then turns to Cherie with newfound determination.</p><p>"cherie, quick, get the defibrillator"</p><p>"the what?" Cherie is turning the heat off, following the thankfully remembered instruction to do so when the time between two pops grew too long.</p><p>"the defirb- i'm never gonna manage to say that again just come here"</p><p>He does, kneeling close to the two.</p><p>"open his jacket for me please"</p><p>He does this as well; Axe's expression twitches and he shrinks a little, but ultimately stays put.</p><p>"thank you nurse"</p><p>"what do i do n-"</p><p>"CLEAR"</p><p>Dust places a hand on each side of Axe's ribs and vibrates fingertips on his ribcage, making the skeleton spasm, grit his teeth and squeeze his eyesockets shut with the effort of staying "unconscious".</p><p>"i'll up the voltage doc, we need to bring him back!" Cherie can't keep the amusement out of his voice.</p><p>"clear"</p><p>"clear!"</p><p>The hands descend once again, now a little lower on the ribs; this seems to successfully break him and he curls up into fetal position, laughing uncontrollably.</p><p>"ok ok i'm awake! i'm awahahake!!"</p><p>"oh my stars, it's a miracle!" Cherie joins Dust in assaulting the poor skeleton with tickles, a fate he accepts with grace - well, as graceful as rolling on the floor crying from laughter can be. The practice is apparent in Dust's touch, going for weak spots with ease, and Cherie has a feeling this isn't at all rare between them.</p><p>It isn't the only feeling he has, especially when they finally stop and Axe looks up at him, disheveled and blushy, and takes his helping hand to stand back up.</p><p>...He envies the way Dust seems to instantly redirect attention to the popcorn, because that look is all he can think about.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"which movie is it gonna be?"</p><p>The three have sat down leaning against each other, nestled in the collection of blankets and pillows they gathered on Dust's bed; Axe settles in the middle but soon moves into a lazier lying down position, using the others as cushions.</p><p>The position causes them to drop popcorn on him, sometimes. Axe doesn't mind, chuckling and stealing the dropped pieces for himself.</p><p>The movie Dust has picked is a horrifically cookie-cutter romantic comedy, which they spend almost the entire time making fun of. Cherie starts to wonder if this is their point of having picked this movie, but the tears in Dust's eyes during the emotional climax are unmistakable. He doesn't bother hiding it, only muttering "she still loves him..." upon noticing the others' looks. Cherie smiles back sympathetically; Axe offers him a hand to hold, which he takes.</p><p>It drags on a little more, but finishes on the happy note everyone expected. Axe switches off the TV, drowsy, setting the empty bowl aside - ants be damned - to get comfortable enough to sleep. The softer of his cushions, to his dismay, stands up, gently pushing him aside in the process.</p><p>"hehe... well, it's getting late... i should get back to my- my room, then...?"</p><p>"only if ya want to~" Axe winks at him, and he flushes magenta. Unsure if it's meant as a joke or a genuine invitation, he decides to play it safe, giggling somewhat awkwardly before saying goodnight and taking his leave.</p><p>With Cherie gone, Axe pushes up into the now empty spot, driving space between him and Dust, and lying opposite to him in bed as the other also lets himself fall.</p><p>"shit, that was weird of me to say, wasn't it."</p><p>"real weird"</p><p>Axe laughs.</p><p>"not even a lil comfort here, man? harsh."</p><p>"i'm honest"</p><p>"nah, ya lie just fine. this is only when it hurts my feelings."</p><p>"yeah you found the secret"</p><p>"jerk." Axe throws a pillow at him, hitting him right in the face; Dust allows it, simply resuming existence under the object as if nothing had happened.</p><p>"...next time i'll get 'im to be in the middle. and maybe stay the night. ya'd like that, wouldn't ya?"</p><p>Dust removes the pillow from his face and, if he tries to play off the visibly hopeful demeanor, it's largely unsuccessful.</p><p>"yeah he is"</p><p>Axe nearly shoots back with "what?", but picks up by tone that that wasn't meant for him. He waits for Dust to decide whether or not to share his thoughts.</p><p>"ash likes pretty sans"</p><p>"pretty sans, huh?"</p><p>"the colors. the colors are nice"</p><p>The colors <em>are</em> nice, in particular when Cherie has ecto-body in sight. It glows in a beautiful, vibrant pink-purple, which Dust and Axe can't help but find fascinating in contrast to their own muted blues.</p><p>Axe yawns, sleepiness rapidly catching up. He cocoons himself in a blanket, snuggles against Dust's leg, and is soon off to sweet dreams. The leg is not removed until he's sure Axe won't wake up.</p><p>Dust's thoughts are purple-pink until he's asleep, too.</p>
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